Knowing the truth
by hermin22
Summary: Sometimes knowing the truth can lead to surprising events.


**Knowing the truth**

Hermione snorted in anger. It was always the same, and Hermione was tired of it. Why couldn't people just quit talking such rubbish?!

"That old hag! I can't believe she gave us that much homework!"

The two Hufflepuffs didn't even try to keep their voices down. Hermione didn't know the boy's name, but the girl's name was Lia or Ria or something ridiculous. They were a year below Hermione, and they never had any classes together. Thank Merlin for that!

"I hate her," the girl added her own stupidity to their conversation.

She was quite pretty, Hermione thought. Too bad she obviously had a vacuum in her head instead of a brain.

"It's so typical. No children of her own but making someone else's children's lives hell. If her hobby is terrorizing children, she should have gotten some."

"That would have meant that someone had to have actually touched that old…"

That was enough! Hermione took a stop forwards with every intention to finish this kind of talk, like she'd done countless times before.

The hand on her shoulder that effectively stopped Hermione's stride was so surprising that it startled her.

Right behind Hermione stood Minerva McGonagall in all her glory: usual stern expression, green teaching robes and a walking stick in her hand. Hermione hoped dearly that Professor McGonagall hadn't heard the brainless duo talking about her.

Hermione wanted to say something as the Hufflepuffs, totally oblivious of the events taking place in the hallway round the corner, kept on talking, but her Professor shook her head, and with a hand on Hermione's back, lead her away from the scene.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Granger. I didn't mean to frighten you," the Professor apologized when they were out of earshot.

"Oh no, Professor, I just didn't expect you there. It's fine."

Professor McGonagall stopped for a moment, regarding her pupil. "Miss Granger, did you have any plans this evening?" the stern witch asked, in her usual clipped tone.

"No, Professor. Nothing in particular."

The old woman nodded. "I was wondering if you'd join me for a cup of tea."

Hermione was more than surprised with the request and a little nervous. Did she do something wrong without knowing?

"There is no need for all the worry lines to appear on your face. You did nothing wrong," the Professor reassured as they started walking again. She didn't know if she should find it amusing or sad that as soon as she wanted to talk to a pupil, they instantly became uneasy. She usually found it amusing, but with Hermione, she settled for a bit sad.

Thinking there was nothing more surprising than Professor McGonagall wanting to drink tea with her, Hermione felt she was in a twilight zone when the Professor led her through the office into her personal quarters.

"Come in, Miss Granger, and sit down," she gestured to a seating area with two armchairs and a sofa in front of a fire place.

Hermione chose the sofa and let her eyes wander around the room. It was just like Hermione pictured her own future sitting room. Shelves full of books covered the walls, and the warm Gryffindor colours gave the room a sense of comfort. It was pretty.

Hermione's musings were interrupted when her Professor came back with a tray of tea and biscuits. Seeing that the elder woman struggled with the cane, wand and floating try, Hermione quickly went to take the tray and placed it carefully on the small table. "Thank you, Miss Granger." The old witch poured them two cups before lighting the fire. With a low moan, the elder woman finally lowered herself into one of the armchairs. "Do you mind if I put my feet up? It's been a tiring day."

Now Hermione was sure she was in Twilight Zone. She had never seen her stern Professor like that, but on the other hand, she had never been invited into the private quarters of a Professor before.

"I don't mind at all, Professor." In fact, Hermione was glad she put her feet up. Since the day Umbridge hit her with the Stunners, Hermione lived in constant worry for the woman next to her. The fact that the proud witch still had to use a cane if she wanted to walk more than a few steps showed Hermione how bad her injuries were. Of course, the private teacher never let on how she really was.

"Why don't you get comfortable yourself, Miss Granger," the Professor invited. "You must ask yourself what all this is about."

Hermione nodded, quite unsure what to do. Her Professor asked her to get comfortable, so she shed her shoes and tucked her legs underneath her. "Yes, I have to admit I'm a bit surprised."

"Well, Miss Granger, I know what you were going to do earlier, and I'd like to talk to you about that."

Hermione's eyes went wide, hoping against hope that her Professor meant an earlier early than a few minutes ago. "Earlier, Professor?"

"Yes, when your fellow pupils talked about me."

Oh no. She had heard them then. Sadly, Hermione watched the tea in her cup swirl in slow circles. She didn't want to see the old woman's face.

Minerva smiled gently. "Miss Granger, I really appreciate that you stand up for me, and I know you've done that since your first year, but it does rather dreadful things to your reputation amongst your peers."

Hermione was shocked. How did she know that? "Oh Professor, I'm not…"

"Don't, Hermione," Minerva interrupted her. "We both know what they say about me. The walls here have ears, and I can assure you there is nothing I haven't heard before. Unfeeling, heartless, no children and a wide range of very colourful language to describe me with very creative words. All that is old. What is new is that someone would so fiercely defend me like you do."

Hermione blushed a little. She never meant for her Professor to find out about that. "I'm sorry, Professor. They just don't know what they're talking bout."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Hermione. When I decided to become a teacher, I knew it isn't a job for people who want to be popular. It doesn't bother me what they say."

"But that's not true," Hermione countered, remembering the look she had seen on her Professor's face when she overheard pupils talking about it being a blessing she had never had children, as she would 'suck' as a mother. "I've seen your face once or twice when people talked about you. It did hurt you, and how could it not? I always tell myself and others that I don't care what people say about me, but it isn't that easy, is it? Deep down, it does hurt, and you don't deserve that."

"Oh Hermione," the Professor said, then noticed her slip. "Is it alright if I call you Hermione?"

The young with nodded. "Of course, Professor. You are more than welcome to use my first name."

"Thank you, Hermione. You are right, of course. It does sting a bit, and that is exactly why I want to ask you to stop defending me. They will let it out on you and talk about you instead, and that is so much worse."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think I can do what you ask of me, Professor. I don't care. They talk about me anyway."

Minerva sighed deeply, then patted the armrest of the sofa. "Come a little closer, child," she invited, and Hermione moved from the middle of the sofa towards the end.

Minerva summoned the blanket from the other armchair and gave it to Hermione. "Here. I know you're cold."

Hermione looked surprised as she wrapped the blanket around herself. "How did you know that?"

The old woman smiled gently. "See, Hermione, the reason I can read you so well is that we are very much alike. I often see myself when I look at you, and I remember. I remember how it was to be you. I know what you are going through, and I know it is hard. Like me, you put yourself under a lot of pressure to achieve outstanding academic success, and that drive for perfection makes you different from your peers. I know how they pick on you, and I know how they talk about you, and I as much as I wish I could, I can't protect you from that."

Hermione was rendered into speechlessness when she looked into sad green eyes.

"What you don't need is more trouble with your peers because you feel the need to defend me." Minerva reached over and took Hermione's hand. "I know how you feel about me, child. I can see how concerned you are, and it truly warms my heart," the old witch whispered. "Don't put yourself into the line of fire because of me." She squeezed the soft hand in hers. "You won't change them, and everybody knows your position anyway."

Silent tears started running down Hermione's cheeks, and Minerva uneasily left her armchair and sat down beside her young charge. The girl immediately shared her blanket, making sure her Professor was warm enough. Having settled as comfortably as she could, Minerva put an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her towards her.

"But it is so unfair," Hermione whispered through her tears.

Minerva pulled the girl even closer until she could rest her cheek against Hermione's curls. "That is how the world is, child, but I take comfort in knowing that the brightest witch of her age knows the truth. And I hope you can take comfort in knowing that I my door is always open for you. When you feel you have to set your peers straight about me, just turn around and come here."

Minerva moved uneasily. It hadn't been a joke when she said she needed to put her feet up. Hermione sat up at once, wiping her tears away. "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor." Hermione stood up to make room for the elder witch. "Put your feet up. Can I get you anything?"

Minerva smiled. She didn't have an outcome for this meeting in mind, but she was pleasantly surprised that their mutual understanding of each other created an atmosphere of comfort that she had only ever felt between Albus and herself.

"Yes, if you could fetch the basket with the wool from behind the other armchair and push the cup a little closer so that I can reach it."

"You can knit?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, it relaxes me. My eyes get tired when I read all evening. But your eyes are still young. There is the latest Transfiguration Today on my desk, or you can pick a book to read if you like. You don't have to stay here, of course Hermione placed the basket next to her Professor and went to fetch the magazine. "I'd like to stay, if that's alright with you."

Minerva smiled. "Of course, child. Get comfortable."

Hermione settled on the plush carpet, resting her back against the sofa, and eagerly opened the magazine in her hands. It wasn't what Minerva had had in mind, but if that was what Hermione wanted, she didn't mind. Instead, she summoned another blanket and threw it over the girl.

"Hey!" Hermione complained from under the soft blanket and pulled it from her head.

Minerva laughed at her young charge and reached out to restore Hermione's hair to its former state with gentle strokes.

Hermione looked up at her, enjoying the treatment. "See? I always knew you'd be a star as a mum."

Obviously very touched by Hermione's words, Minerva let her hand stroke Hermione's soft cheek. "Only with you, darling," she whispered.

Hermione smiled and settled back. "That's fine," she said happily. "I'm used to being an only child."

The old woman laughed. "You better call me Minerva then when we're alone."

Hermione took Minerva's hand that was lazily dangling from the sofa and held it when she said what would determine both of their lives forever. "I might just settle for mum," she said shyly.

Overcome with emotion, Minerva squeezed Hermione's hand and didn't let go, showing her it was alright.

"Mum," Hermione decided. "Definitely mum."


End file.
